


Open Your Eyes

by pinetreelady



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Caretaking, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Multi, Porn with Feelings, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:29:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22643353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinetreelady/pseuds/pinetreelady
Summary: Zhenya knew better, he really did. But sometimes he Googled his own name and clicked the news tab.
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Anna Kasterova/Evgeni Malkin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 61
Collections: Sid/Geno/Anna Exchange: Round 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [witblogi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/witblogi/gifts).

> Witblogi, I love your stories, so I was delighted to have a chance to write for you!
> 
> Your prompts were fantastic, but I was glad for your permission to write something else, because I had this idea that just wouldn't let me go. I hope you will enjoy it.

Zhenya knew better, he really did. But sometimes he Googled his own name and clicked the news tab.

He was self-aware enough to discern a pattern. When he was confident, at the top of his game, producing points and opportunities and scoring chances, he never even thought to go looking. But when he was feeling a little uncertain, it was another story. 

Shitty takes about the team, about Sid, invariably pissed him off on their behalf.

When it came to himself, though, the negatives only fed the narrative authored by his self-doubt.

The closer Sid came to returning from his sports hernia surgery, the more Zhenya’s self-doubt ramped up. Would Sully cut his ice time? Would his production fall off? 

Reporters liked to talk to him about how he flourished when Sid was out, and sometimes they insinuated that he’d stop playing quite so hard once Sid returned, as if he was making a conscious choice. 

His worry started to spill over into his interactions with both Anya and Sid, and he caught them both noticing. He braced himself for their inevitable meddling.

*

Sure enough, Anya caught him by surprise on a day off. Usually, they spent a quiet day at home, just the two of them and Nikita, but when he got up after sleeping in, she was making lunch and Nikita was nowhere to be found. 

“What’s up?” He asked, dropping a kiss in her hair on his way to plug in the kettle. 

“Zhenya,” she said in a coaxing, conciliatory tone that instantly put him on the defensive. “You’re playing so well. Why are you being moody about it?”

Zhenya didn’t want to give an inch. He poured hot water into a mug. “What? When am I moody? I always play the best.”

She squinted at him, clearly unmoved by his attempt at deflection. “You’re having an amazing season,” she said. “Everyone’s saying so. You don’t need to worry about Sid coming back.”

“Anya, can’t we just have a nice lunch?” He reached for her hand, and she let him take it. He pulled her close and held her, putting his nose into her hair. 

She squirmed away and fixed him with a look.

“Anya, I’m fine, I swear. I don’t need you to fuss,” he said.

She cast her eyes down. “I just don’t want you to fall back into a bad place, like last season.”

_Oh, Anya._ “I won’t, I swear. Just let me deal with it on my own, okay? It’ll be all right.”

*

And then, as if they were coordinating, Sid tried the next day after practice. 

“Lunch today, G?” he asked lightly, on his way to the shower.

Zhenya squinted up at him from where he sat by his locker. “Tanger too?” He wouldn’t have to endure Sid’s earnest efforts to get him to spill his guts if Sid meant for it to be a leadership core lunch. 

“He’s got to take care of his kids this afternoon; Catherine’s got an appointment.” 

Sid planned for this, the cagey bastard. Zhenya chanced a look at him, but he didn't look smug, just earnest.

“C’mon, G, it’ll be fun,” Sid coaxed. 

Zhenya momentarily toyed with the idea of inviting Horny or Rusty or any number of the guys along, and while he enjoyed all of their company, it was more work to have them. Even if Sid was intent on having A Talk, he was the easiest of the guys to be with. Zhenya suppressed a sigh.

“Okay, Sid.”

They went to a place with a proven record of leaving them the fuck alone, which Zhenya always appreciated but especially so today, if he’s about to get grilled in a public place. 

He ordered a soda water with lemon and a glass of regular water and picked up his menu. He wasn’t planning on making this easy on Sid. Let him do the heavy lifting.

He was shit at waiting Sid out, though. 

He leaned back in his chair, tilting his chin. “You’re plan with Anya?”

A traitorous part of him liked the idea of Anya and Sid conspiring about him, even if he really preferred them not to meddle in things he could handle perfectly well himself. 

Sid didn’t answer the question, just dropped his eyes and unrolled his napkin, carefully placing the silverware on the table in front of himself. “What are you talking about?”

Zhenya rolled his eyes, not even bothering to try to hide it. “I’m not need you fussing at me. You need stop,” he said. “It’s fine, I’m fine, don’t need help.”

Sid looked up then, and, oh shit, his feelings were hurt. 

Zhenya sighed, and slid his feet carefully toward Sid’s under the table until he could trap Sid’s foot, in lieu of taking his hand and squeezing it. “Sorry, Sid,” he said sincerely.

“I don’t know why you don’t let me help,” Sid said quietly.

Zhenya let out an exasperated breath. “I’m not need, Sid, I’m handle, it’s good, okay?”

Sid looked at him skeptically. “If you say so.”

“Really, I’m good. I’m think about some things, but you and Anya, you worry too much.”

Sid didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, and didn’t look hurt anymore, whichZhenya would take.

“What you eat today, same as always, or something good for a change?” Zhenya teased and Sid shot him his usual indignant look in reply.

“Like you’re any better,” Sid protested.

Zhenya gave him an affronted look. “I’m try new things lots.”

They were still bickering when the server came to take their orders.

*

He’d averted both Sid and Anya’s meddling, but Zhenya didn’t handle it, not really. He was still brooding and the shitty game against Boston didn’t help even a little. It would just feed the narrative that he’d stop trying now that Sid was back in the lineup. 

The work it was taking to hide his continuing dark mood from his two favorite people wasn’t helping. And he wasn’t stupid; he knew they were still noticing. But at least they’d stopped bugging him about it, and that was what mattered. Maybe if he ignored his own discomfiture long enough, it would go away on its own. 

*

It was date night for the three of them. Nikita was off with his grandparents, and Sid was coming over, and Zhenya was happy about it.

Neither he nor Sid had to go to the stupid all-star game, and best of all, Tanger had to go, _and_ he was going instead of Ovechkin. 

He was mostly thinking about the beach and getting to be in Miami over the break, and not much about hockey or anything else, as he climbed the stairs and went into the bedroom. Anya was lying in bed, in her glasses, with a stack of paper in her hands that she was paging through. That was a little weird. She was usually reading a book, or on her phone. Was she reading a contract for something?

“You working in bed now?” he teased. “Romance is dead.”

She smirked at him and went back to reading.

Sid emerged from the closet, in loose shorts and a t-shirt. 

Zhenya gestured at the bed. “You see, Sid? She’s not excited to be in bed with two hot men; she’s doing work.”

Sid also responded only with a smirk, which was a little weird. Then he exchanged a look with Anya and they were both smirking at Zhenya, and that was more than a little unnerving. 

“What’s up?” he asked them both.

Sid waited a beat and then said, “Just get ready for bed already.” 

Zhenya squinted at them and then went to brush his teeth.

He emerged to find both of them in bed, heads tilted together over Anya’s papers.

“Now you both work,” Zhenya said to cover his confusion. “I’m go sleep in guest room, so I’m not distract you?” An empty threat, and they knew it. He hated sleeping alone.

They looked up at him in tandem and he was pinned by the intensity of their gazes. The fuck were they up to? He narrowed his eyes at them. 

Then Anya smiled, sweet and slow, and Sid took the papers from her hands and made room between them for him. He clambered into the space, trying surreptitiously to see their papers. Sid had a tight hold on them, so Zhenya decided to let it go for now, and curled into Anya for a kiss, before she turned her back to him so he could snug in behind her. He basked in being cocooned between them, Anya’s softness in front and Sid’s sturdiness at his back. He groped Anya’s hip and slid his hand inside her tank top to pinch at a nipple, and she ground her ass against his cock while playfully slapping his hand away. Undeterred, he reached back and grabbed Sid’s thigh, pulling him into Zhenya’s body so he was spooned behind. Zhenya sighed into Anya’s neck, and felt lighter than he had in weeks.

He’d happily have curled there indefinitely, but it _was_ date night. 

Sid was running a hand up and down Zhenya’s thigh, tantalizing. He pressed kisses to Zhenya’s back and pushed his hips more securely against Zhenya’s ass. Zhenya wriggled against him. They’d all gotten off this way before, just gently moving against each other, and Zhenya’s fingers in Anya’s pussy. He loved fingering her, and thinking of it made him reach for the waistband of her loose sleep shorts, and slip his hand inside. She made a tiny, encouraging noise and he got the same rush of heat he always did at being able to touch her this way. 

His fingers slid to the crease of her hip, and then, exploratory, into her folds. She wasn’t too wet yet, so he’d have to be patient. She rolled in his arms so he could kiss her, deep and slow. He pulled his hand back out of her pants. There wasn’t any rush.

She pushed at him insistently and he rolled onto his back as Sid pulled him that way, too, and Sid curled half over him, knee up over his thighs, and palmed at his still-soft cock while Anya kissed him, hair brushing his chest, and pinched at his nipple. 

“You’re so hot,” Sid said, and it wasn’t anything new. He loved watching Zhenya and Anya together, and Anya was hot by anyone’s measure. 

Zhenya threaded his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head and angling her head so he could kiss her deeper. She let him for a moment and then pulled back to smile at him, the smile he loved best, warm and intimate, filled with love and tenderness. She put a hand to his cheek and turned him gently toward Sid, who was watching him with a similar expression. 

“Hi,” he said, voice low, and leaned in for his own share of kisses.

Zhenya felt like he was drowning in their attention. Sid kissed him deeply, like Anya had, and she ran her fingers lightly down his body, joining Sid’s hand on his dick. He could feel her sitting up, pulling at his boxers, and he raised his hips to let her pull them off and away. It was overwhelming, even distracted by kissing, to feel exposed while Sid and Anya were both still dressed, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Sid’s hand was back on his cock, which was filling now. Anya was playing with his balls, and he heard the click of the lube cap. 

“Okay?” Sid asked, separating their mouths just enough to ask. The warm light in his eyes made it hard to speak, so Zhenya just nodded.

It was Anya’s light touch on his cock, now, stroking with just enough lube to still give him a little friction, and Sid’s distracting kisses meant that he was caught by surprise by his blunt fingertip circling his hole. Zhenya gasped and Sid said, low, “There you go,” as he rubbed harder and then pushed in with just the tip of his finger. 

Zhenya basked in their attention, lush kisses and tender caresses, but he shook himself loose enough to wonder still if they were up to something. 

Enough was enough, he pushed Sid away with an elbow and rolled away from Anya -- or attempted to. Sid inexorably held him in place and Anya pushed back in a way she rarely did. Zhenya had a moment of hind-brain reaction, an instinctive _how dare they?_ before reason took over and he relaxed again.

Anya noticed, though, and leaned in so they could make eye contact. “Okay?” She asked softly, and Zhenya relaxed still more. Sid rubbed a soothing hand up and down Zhenya’s leg.

“What you’re doing?” Zhenya asked. There was trusting them and then there was curiosity, and he couldn’t restrain that.

“Taking care of you,” Sid said, and now it was his turn for eye contact. Zhenya was torn between affection and irritation, because that was some captain bullshit he was pulling with his demeanor. It always killed Zhenya when Sid pulled that shit in bed.

Anya sat up and pulled off her tank top and Zhenya knew full well that she was using her body to distract him, but how could he possibly object. She still took his breath away. Sid, too, was caught for a moment, just gazing at her, and she stretched her arms over her head, smirking at both of them. She slid her panties off next and sunk a finger into her folds as her eyes fluttered shut. Zhenya’s breath caught, and he reached out to cup her breast, and she curled into him, putting her fingers that had been in her pussy into his mouth. Sid made a punched out noise and as Zhenya watched, he literally shook his head and put his hand back behind Zhenya’s balls. Anya’s fingers in his mouth and Sid’s at his ass were overwhelming. 

Finally, Sid took off his shirt and shorts, and he kept breaking off from fingering Zhenya to stroke himself. Zhenya itched to get his hands and mouth on each of them but they kept distracting him and he decided to just enjoy whatever the hell they were up to.

Then, abruptly, both of them took their hands and bodies away from him. He opened his eyes and looked at them, faces both flushed with arousal, Sid’s cock hard, Anya’s nipples tight and wetness gleaming between her legs. 

They both looked like something straight out of porn, if said porn were lifted directly from Zhenya’s fantasies. Maybe they’d just fuck each other and he could get himiself off while he watched. It wouldn’t be the first time, and he wouldn’t object, but... Curiosity got the better of him. What were they up to?

“What,” Zhenya protested. He’d been in a happy state of arousal, not particularly urgent, but now that they’d stopped touching him he was suddenly desperate, not just sexually but for answers. “Why you both being so weird today?” he groaned. 

Anya sat on her heels by his left hip, back primly straight, hair tumbling over her shoulders. Her tits looked fantastic. Zhenya’s dick throbbed, and he jacked himself slowly, watching her. Sid was rooting around on the other side of the bed, and he reappeared, that stack of papers in his fist. He grinned at Zhenya and winked at Anya.

“You shot us both down when we tried to talk to you,” Sid said conversationally, turning pages. 

Zhenya struggled to catch up, lost for words. They were going to do this to him _now_? 

Anya curled her hand around his dick again, and he groaned. 

“Such tease,” he said. 

She smiled at him affectionately, the kind of smile that only made what they did in bed more appealing. The kind of smile that, before this relationship, he was more accustomed to seeing in other contexts than bed. It was part of what he loved best about her.

Sid cleared his throat and Zhenya looked over at him. He looked solemn, sitting up straight, cross-legged, with loose folds of the sheet in his lap. Zhenya twitched at it, and Sid smacked his hand away, grinning. The same feeling washed over him, of being more used to seeing that kind of smile in a locker-room context, not in bed. 

Sid licked his lower lip, shot a glance at Anya, and began reading. 

“This is from the Post-Gazette, an article by Mike Defabo, in December. It’s a quote from Sully. _‘He’s one of the best players of his generation,’ Sullivan said. ‘Geno is a really gifted player, physically and otherwise. He has great offensive instincts. But he’s also big and strong and can skate. Geno can play any game that he wants to play. He can play a finesse game. He can play a power game. He can play a speed game.’”_

Zhenya didn’t particularly want to hear what Sully had to say about him while he was in bed with Sid and Anya. He groaned, and opened his mouth to complain. Anya shot him a look and Sid said, “Nope, shut up; it’s our turn to talk.”

“You talk after,” Anya said, and leaned forward to kiss him, nipples brushing his chest, her hand around his dick again. He tried to pull her on top of him, but she resisted, and sat back, smiling. 

“Here’s an article by Andrew Berkshire, at SportsNet,” Sid continued inexorably. “_‘Every time Sidney Crosby gets hurt ... Evgeni Malkin seems to find a new gear … and this season is no different. The point production is always a good place to start but what Malkin has been able to do this season to keep the Penguins a dominant team with their captain and best player out goes beyond just goals and assists. In fact, it’s more than just offence … Malkin [is] creating a startling amount of offence, way beyond what anyone else in the league is doing.’”_

Sid paused and cleared his throat. “There’s more: ‘_So far this season he has been remarkable, moving the puck up the ice at the rate of the league’s elite, and creating offence more efficiently than anyone’._ There’s a graph, and it shows how far out there you’ve been, but I want to read one more sentence to you, because I like the wording.” Sid smirked at him. “‘_The gap with which Malkin outpaces the average of the forward group is even larger than the gap between the average defender and average forward, which really drives home how utterly dominant he has been._’”

“Oh my god, stop,” Zhenya said. They were being ridiculous. He started to sit up, he had to go, to escape this situation, but Sid pinned him with a look. Zhenya pouted a little. He didn’t want to get in a wrestling match, because Zhenya knew from painful experience that Sid would definitely win.

Anya patted Zhenya’s leg briskly, and then reached for the sheaf of papers. “My turn.” She cleared her throat, straightened her shoulders, and looked at him coolly. She was channeling her years of TV presenting and it was going to kill Zhenya. She was so hot like that. He reached his hand out for Sid, who shifted closer and put his hand on Zhenya’s dick. 

She read, carefully, in English, as if she’d practiced. She probably had. God, Zhenya loved her. “From blogsite Pensburgh, where they give grades to all Penguin players: ‘_Evgeni Malkin: Malkin has a 61.26% xGF%, tops in the entire league. Leads the team in points (15G+35A in 37 games) and looks a lot more like “old” self (like, MVP days) and not like an old guy, which at 33 he is. … it couldn’t be much better of a bounce-back year for Malkin_’.” 

“It’s call me _old_!” Zhenya protested, because he couldn’t focus on the rest of that.

“Sometimes it’s good to hear the good press,” Sid remarked. “That sports psychologist that Flower went to? She told him to go through the news reports and write down all the good stuff and read it every day.”

“We think it’s a good idea, but we know you won’t do this,” Anya said. “So, we do ourselves. Now shut up, more to read.”

Sid leaned in to look him in the eye, and then kissed him, hand trailing down behind Zhenya’s balls to his hole, where he stroked gently, and pressed in while Zhenya drew a ragged breath against Sid’s mouth. 

“Hey,” Anya said, and Sid sat back up. She gave him a look. “From Pens Inside Scoop twitter account, Sam Kasan. ‘_Malkin said he needed “to be fire” with Crosby out. He didn’t say he was going to be an arsonist._’” 

Sid chuckled, and they both turned to look at him. “What, it’s funny! That’s actually pretty witty, okay.”

Anya rolled her eyes, smiling. 

“Yes, very funny, make fun of my English,” Zhenya grumbled, not really meaning it. 

“This last one is long,” Sid said. “It’s from _The Athletic_, by Jesse Marshall, from December. He breaks down exactly what makes you so good, G.” He eyed Zhenya. “So, I’m gonna read it slowly and make you listen, and make you watch the video links he puts in there, while Anna rides you.” He paused, then added, “She might make you repeat certain parts back to me. Got it?”

A rush of heat made Zhenya swallow against a suddenly dry mouth. He looked over at Anya, who was watching him already, and, he was sure, missing none of his reactions. “If I get tired, Sid and I will switch,” she said, lips curving up in a coy smile. She drew her fingers down her body and into her pussy. Zhenya bit his lip at the sight of her getting ready for him.

He was, shamefully, still hard. Anya threw a leg over him, straddling his hips. She leaned in to kiss him deeply, and he buried his hands in her hair, taking the messy kiss he wanted, trying to convey the depth of his feelings. 

“Oh, and don’t come until the end of the article,” Sid added, right as Anya wriggled her way onto his dick.

He gasped, breathless. “Not sure I can do that,” he admitted. 

Anya shimmied around, and swallowed, eyes heavy-lidded. “Tell me if you’re close, and I’ll stop,” she said in Russian, holding eye contact. She raised her hands to her nipples and rolled her hips, and Zhenya’s eyes slid shut as Sid began to read. 

It was driving Zhenya completely out of his mind, Sid’s methodical reading and Anya losing it on his dick. She kept letting out breathy moans and pinching at her nipples, tossing her hair. 

“Oh, that’s a good sentence,” Anya said, stilling her rhythm. “Read again, Sid?”

Sid repeated it: “‘_One of the core reasons behind this run of points is Malkin’s ability to take hold of the puck and go on a total journey through the offensive zone._’”

“Now you say, Zhenya,” she coaxed, lifting herself up and slowly back down. 

He groaned, but he did it. He’d never admit it to them, never, but he was actually enjoying himself.

Sid continued reading, and Zhenya was barely processing it. He could tell Anya was really on the edge, and she ground down and panted. Even Sid paused to watch, mouth dropped open to watch her come. He’d kept a hand on his own dick the entire time, but he was doing an admirable job of reading despite his own obvious arousal.

Anya had color high in her cheeks and her eyes were bright as she sagged forward, and Sid paused while she lifted herself off of Zhenya’s dick.

It was incredibly erotic to watch her fall apart on his dick and usually the visual alone was enough to trigger Zhenya’s own orgasm. Restraining himself took all his self-control.

“Please,” Zhenya said, almost involuntarily, and reached for his own dick.

Sid smacked his hand away and looked at Anya, wordlessly communicating. She reached out for the papers and wedged a pillow behind her so she could lounge back while reading. Sid went right for Zhenya’s dick with his mouth. 

Anya picked up where Sid had left off, and he couldn’t even think anymore, couldn’t take in the words she was reading. He’d been right on the edge and watching Sid go down on his dick, the thought that Sid was tasting Anya on him -- he had nothing left. 

“I’m not--” Zhenya reached for Sid’s head and barely pulled his hair to warn him before his orgasm jolted through him.

“Sorry,” he panted, not even sure what he was apologizing for. Coming too soon, or without having warned Sid. Were they going to be mad at him for not abiding by their rules? 

He was completely spent. After long moments, he drew a shuddering breath and opened his eyes. Sid was smirking up at him. Anya was propped on her elbows, eyebrows raised, papers still clutched in her fist. 

“Sorry,” he repeated.

Sid chuckled. “Guess you liked that, eh?”

Zhenya did like it, but he wasn’t prepared to admit it. He’d have to process the entire experience at some point. But of more pressing concern was that Sid was still hard. “You want I’m--”

“Yes,” Anya answered, voice decisive. “You suck him off now, and I finish reading. You listen.”

Zhenya tried to reboot his brain a little. “Sid will like,” he said slyly. “Listen to good things about me. That’s get him off for sure.”

Anya laughed, and Zhenya knew she was laughing at both of them. 

*

Afterwards, they lay curled together much the way they’d started. 

Zhenya took a deep breath, and said, “You both read only good things, not dumb stuff that’s bad.”

“This is the point exactly,” Anya said.

“You said it yourself, G, that’s the dumb stuff. And you know all that shit already. You focus on it too much as it is. Gotta emphasize the positives, and just ignore the negatives.” 

Zhenya thought about it, and Sid continued. “You have to understand that the good stuff matters more. Our brains catch on the bad stuff, but what we’re doing is to make sure you really take in the good things. You can like... Remember this stuff, say it to yourself, when you start with the self-doubt.”

“I can try,” Zhenya said dubiously. “I’m not know if it works this way.”

“It does,” Anya said. “Remember what Sid said, about Flower’s sports psychologist?”

“Hm.”

“We’re going to keep doing this until you get it, G,” Sid said, nodding earnestly. 

Zhenya widened his eyes. 

“Well, maybe not exactly this, but we’re definitely going to keep reading the press and compiling the good stuff.”

“Hold you down and make you read out loud,” Anya suggested. “But it’s more fun this way, right?”


	2. Chapter 2

_outtake of Sid and Anna plotting_

Anya was angling for Sid to invite her to breakfast, at his place, so they could talk. She had an idea, borne of the reading she’d been doing, and she wanted to get Sid onboard. 

Zhenya pushed back against everyone, at least sometimes. Even her, and she was a pretty strong person. She’d learned the edges of his psyche; she knew where she could lean and where she was likely to get hurt; where the jagged edges could cut her.

And she wondered if Sid, who’d known Zhenya so long and so intimately, also had found the soft places, the places where Zhenya’s doubt threatened to swallow him up. 

Sid was a good cook, and breakfast was his favorite thing to make. He cooked often at their place. He was a soft touch; appealing to how good a cook he was always yielded great results, from either her or Zhenya.

Cooking for them at their house felt ordinary, whereas this felt like an occasion.

Sure enough, she let herself in and Sid had the table set, with pretty plates and fresh flowers, placemats and cloth napkins. It smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, so he had baked, too.

She sidled up behind Sid, who was chopping things on the counter.

“Mmmm,” she said. “Frittata?” 

Sid flashed her a smile. “I know what you like.”

She winked at him. “Yes.” 

He grinned and leaned toward her for a kiss hello. He leaned back out and inspected her. “You look nice.”

She laughed. He always said that, no matter what she showed up in, dressed to the nines or in shapeless comfy clothes, like today. A sign that he’d been raised well. “You say to Zhenya, too? _Oh, Zhenya, you look nice_.” She grinned up at him.

Sid blushed a little. “Well. No.” He nudged his bowl of chopped onions into alignment with the one of sliced mushrooms next to it. “He’d probably laugh at me.”

“I’m laughing at you,” Anya pointed out.

Sid shook his head. “I don’t know what to do with the two of you sometimes.”

“Well,” she said briskly. “We need right now to see what we can do for Zhenya.”

Sid blew out a breath. “No kidding, eh? Can’t have a repeat of last season.”

Anya rolled her eyes in agreement. Absolutely not. “I have an idea,” she said. 

“Good,” Sid nodded firmly. “Let me get this into the oven and then we’ll talk.”

Sid sauteed vegetables and beat eggs and Anya took his empty mise-en-place dishes and put them into the dishwasher, and made a pot of tea. She dug around in the cupboard for her favorite mug and put it next to Sid’s on the counter. 

At last, he slid the frittata into the oven, and fetched a bowl of cut-up fruit and the container of yogurt from the fridge. “You want to put these on the table while I slice that cake?”

The crumb-topped coffee cake looked delicious. Anya’s mouth watered. 

They applied themselves to the fruit and yogurt, and the cake, mostly in silence. 

“Mmmm,” she said. “So good. Thank you.”

He smiled at her, and she nudged at his foot under the table. 

He sighed, then leaned forward on his elbows.

“So, Zhenya,” she said.

“Yeah. I hate feeling like I’m the cause of it this time.”

Anya stared at him. “You are not.”

“Well,” Sid said, and poked at the puddle of juice left behind by his fruit salad with his fork.

“Stop it, Sid.” Anya didn’t want to have this discussion again, if the team would’ve been better off if Sid had waited to have the surgery until later. 

“I know,” he said, on another sigh. “What’s done is done, right?”

The timer went off just then and Sid fetched the frittata, put it right on a trivet on the table in front of them, in the cast iron pan he baked it in. 

Anya marshaled her thoughts. She had this idea, now she just had to sell Sid on it. “I try to talk to Zhenya, and you try also,” she began. 

Sid nodded. “He’s so fucking stubborn.”

Anya huffed out a breath. Sid was one to talk, but she wasn’t going there today. Stay on task, she reminded herself. “Yes. He won’t listen to me, won’t listen to you. Maybe he listen to other people.”

Sid squinted at her. “You mean, coaches? Or,” he paused, clearly thinking. “His parents?” He sounded really skeptical.

“No, I’m think, he listen to experts. Hockey experts,” she said. “He needs, ah, reminder of why he’s great.”

“So, like, we, I don’t know,” Sid gestured, “print stuff out, or something? Articles, quotes? We’ll never get him to read it.” 

“Right,” she agreed. “He won’t read. We will read to him.”

She could see the gears turning in Sid’s head. “It’s a good idea,” he temporized, obviously trying not to just shoot down her idea. She felt a rush of affection for him. “But don’t you think he’ll just -- walk away, like before? Or like, laugh it off?” He picked up the spatula to serve the frittata, which had likely cooled enough by now. He looked at her doubtfully. “He’s pretty strong-willed.”

“Probably yes,” she said, taking a sip of tea. “This is why we do carefully. Together.”

Sid cocked his head at her, and she added, “In bed.”


End file.
